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For an hour or so the world seemed to have taken me for its center as smoothly as a sleeping top. Only after a good seven miles did my meditations begin to reveal any bitter in the sweet; but it was in recalling for the twentieth time the last sight of Camille, that I heard myself say, I know not whether softly or loudly,

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

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"I am but human."

"Well, I reckon I'll stop all night." I began to move on. His eyes followed greedily.

"Good-morning," I murmured.

"I saw them, Lieutenant, looking in at the door to see the despatch put back under my pillow. Yes, sir, by the same hand that had shown it to them."

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